


If wishes were fishes

by crayyyonn



Category: GOT7
Genre: Gender or Sex Swap, M/M, Rule 63, girljaebum is not permanent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-04 16:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayyyonn/pseuds/crayyyonn
Summary: Yugyeom is not to blame for Jaebum suddenly becoming a girl. Not even if he did wish for it that one time.





	If wishes were fishes

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh so this stemmed from that one interview where they were asked what they would do if they had magic powers and yugyeom said "turn jaebum into a girl" + another interview where jaebum said he'd date yugyeom if he were a girl and i just took both and ran from there
> 
> technically the smut is het but then jaebum is still a man regardless of his genitals so i labeled it as m/m :D

Hand on heart, Yugyeom swears he never meant for it to happen.

He’s thought it before, sure, but it’s definitely not what he was thinking when Jinyoung creeps up on him to stick a cake under his nose, yelling at him to _quick, make a wish_ and putting him in mortal danger of suffocating in cream. Not even if he had been scrolling through his camera roll and was maybe, possibly lingering on a picture of Jaebum in the Dumb Dumb costume at the time of his ambush. He wasn’t actively thinking it, and that’s the defense he’s sticking to. 

Besides, it’s not like he even _wants_  this to happen, okay? Yes he’s said that one time that he would turn Jaebum into a girl if he had magical powers, but it was supposed to be hypothetical. Of course it’s meant to be hypothetical! Human beings don’t randomly gain magical ability to change reality with the power of thinking—this is real life, not Harry Potter—and human beings don’t spontaneously switch genders, no matter how much Yugyeom ~~wishes~~  wished for it.

Which he _didn’t_. (Except very casually, and only in the context of a question posed by an interviewer.)

Really. Despite whatever reality is trying to tell him right now. 

“You need to calm down, hyung,” Jinyoung is saying.

He beckons Yugyeom over, still bleary-eyed and standing confused at the entrance to the  _situation room_ , as Bambam ominously dubbed in his last text, but which is really just Youngjae and Jaebum’s shared hotel room for the duration of their stay in Tokyo for the Zepp tour. Shuffling over to the bed—Youngjae’s, he thinks—he tucks himself in between the two vocalists, allowing Jinyoung a moment of ruffling his hair before batting the hand away. He’s twenty-one now, now that it’s officially the 17th in most of the world, much too old for such indulgences. Jinyoung mock pouts at him and he returns it by sticking out his tongue. 

“What’s going on,” he says around a yawn.

After days of grueling schedules, they were supposed to be able to rest a little this morning before their dress rehearsal after lunch. Yugyeom had made plans to sleep in, plans that were summarily dashed when he was rudely woken up by a yell, a loud banging on his hotel room door, and then Bambam’s nonstop phone calls and texts that had him almost throw his phone at the wall. He might not be married to his bed like Youngjae and Jaebum are, but he likes his sleep undisturbed, thank you very much. 

“You better have a good excuse for waking me up,” he continues, just this side of petulant. Youngjae shushes him.

“Yeah, Jaebum, Jinyoung’s right. It’ll probably wear off in a bit.”

Despite the way his voice is pitched soothingly, Mark does not sound at all convinced, Yugyeom thinks. 

Bambam hums in agreement. “And maybe stop with the deep breathing, all it’s doing is making your side boob more obvious.”

He lifts an arm with an outraged  _don’t pretend you’re not all thinking it_ to ward off the pillows that fly his way, courtesy of the three oldest in the room. Yugyeom doesn’t feel sorry for his best friend and his lack of self-preservation one bit, especially when he blithely continues, 

“What? They’re distracting. I’m a hormonal teenage boy, you know?” He waves a hand in Jaebum’s direction. “You, hyung, need a bra.”

And that’s when Yugyeom finally looks Jaebum’s way properly for the first time. He sits up, instantly awake.

“Hyung, you—I mean, n—”

“Don’t say it.”

“But—”

Jaebum scowls, sets his jaw. “Do. Not.” It’s a few octaves higher than Yugyeom is used to but no less intimidating, until he continues, “I woke up like this.”

Bambam doesn’t even try to suppress the amused snort, although he mimes zipping up his lips at the look Jaebum sends his way. Yugyeom just blinks, gaze zeroed in on Jaebum’s chest and, yes, the swell of flesh that’s really very conspicuous through the large arm hole in his tank top, because,  _whoa_. The usual wave of attraction he feels for the older man surges tenfold, and he has to fight to keep it down. 

Someone clears their throat, and belatedly, Yugyeom notices their manager leaning against the bathroom door. 

“Well, nothing’s going to be solved by you sitting around here and talking endlessly about it.” 

He looks as disheveled as them, a far cry from his normally put together appearance that always has them teasing him about being more suited to idol life than any of them (especially Youngjae). 

“We’ll have to figure out what to do about the concert tonight, if this doesn’t wear off. I’m going to go discuss this with management right now. You have a free morning, so go ahead with whatever you’ve planned, just be discreet. And Jaebum.”

At Jaebum’s instant (and rather femininely-pitched) _yes, hyung_ , he chuckles, sounding distinctly uncomfortable.

“Bambam’s right, you need some, uh, underthings. I’ll tell Jiwon to come help you out.”

Yugyeom didn’t think it was possible, but Jaebum’s jaw juts out even more.

 

Fifteen minutes on the toilet replying birthday well wishes from friends on KakaoTalk and scrolling through his birthday hashtag on Instagram has him feeling decidedly more human, and more ready to face the fact that he _might_ (not)have had a hand in turning Jaebum hyung— _noona_ , he tries out before shuddering at the sheer wrongness of it—into a, well, noona.

“It’s not your fault,” he firmly tells his blurry reflection in the steamed up mirror.

Just for the hell of it, he holds up a hand and thinks hard at the mirror. When it doesn’t clear up, he breathes a sigh of relief. Then he chuckles, because had he really expected something to happen?

Stepping out of the bathroom, he nearly avoids railroading Bambam, whose fist is raised, clearly about to knock.

“All yours,” Yugyeom tells him. He’s met with a shake of his head.

“Not that, I finally convinced Jaebum hyung that he should come shop for some clothes with Jiwon noona and me, since we don’t know how long he’s gonna be,” Bambam drops his voice to a excited whisper, “a girl.” He winks, ignoring the eye roll he gets in return. “You wanna come with?”

Yugyeom wants to say no, he really does, but one look at the mischievous glint in Bambam’s eyes is all it takes for him to nod in agreement. He doesn’t know what his best friend has planned, but it’s bound to piss Jaebum off, and Yugyeom can’t have Bambam getting murdered in a foreign land on his conscience. Even though Jaebum hyung turning into Jaebum noona is—and he’s beginning to sound like a broken record now, even to himself—decidedly _not his fault_. Besides, it’s a good opportunity for him to finally pick up the sneakers he’s been eyeing since seeing them at a store at Fukuoka the week before. It’s his birthday, he reasons, he deserves to treat himself.

“Sure, why not,” he tells Bambam, who grins gleefully upon hearing it and holds up an open palm for a high five. “Just give me five minutes.”

“This is going to be so much fun.”

He scoffs at the way his friend skips back down the hotel corridor. Halfway through getting ready, the yell comes. Hurriedly tugging on the nearest sweater he can reach, he grabs his wallet and makes his way over to Jaebum and Youngjae’s room only to see Bambam put in a headlock by their leader, Jinyoung shaking his head while Youngjae laughs. The younger is desperately trying to turn his face away from the ample chest he’s being smushed against, and looks at Yugyeom like he’s Jesus come back to life.

“Yugyeom, thank god.”

Flailing around for a bit before deciding Jaebum’s waist is as safe a place as any, he plants his hands on it, eliciting a yelp from the elder. Then he pushes him away (with effort, Yugyeom notes; Jaebum’s strength hasn’t diminished any despite being a girl), crowing, “Let’s go shopping!”

 

“I hate this,” Jaebum announces.

He’s tugging at the front of his sweater again, for the millionth time since they stepped out of the hotel. Yugyeom imagines he can see the knitted material stretching, unraveling. Jiwon had tossed it his way earlier, telling him that while it’s not quite thick enough to hide the fact that he’s not wearing a bra, it’ll do until they get him one, before giggling with the rest of their stylist and make up team about how Jaebum is surprisingly busty. Jaebum had gone a very interesting shade of tomato at that, sending Bambam and Youngjae into peals of delighted cackling.

Privately, Yugyeom thinks there’s nothing surprising about it considering Jaebum’s original build, but no one is asking for his opinion so he wisely keeps his mouth shut. He has no intention of getting onto Jaebum’s bad side more than he will be if Jaebum ever finds out the truth behind his transformation. 

Which is still not his fault, in case anyone is wondering. 

“I really, _really_ hate this,” Jaebum repeats with a scowl when no answer is forthcoming. 

He looks at Yugyeom pointedly, who’s next to him, but Yugyeom isn’t sure how to respond. With a sigh of resignation, he reaches out to gently detach Jaebum’s hand from the fabric it’s twisting itself in. It’s smaller than he remembers, his own enveloping it more than completely, but just as soft. He’s reluctant to let it go, so he doesn’t.

“You’ll ruin Jiwon noona’s sweater.”

Not to mention draw attention to himself. He’s shorter than he was before the change but still tall for a woman. His features are as sharp as ever, his hair still cropped close to his head but there’s a hint of femininity around the cheeks and jaw that comes through despite the mask and cap he’s wearing as camouflage. And although the baggy clothes hide it, Yugyeom knows enough to imagine a figure that’s shapely underneath the swath of thick material. He’s as striking as a woman as he had been a man and people are noticing.

“Hate. This.”

Grumbling under his breath, he slides his hand more securely into Yugyeom’s, tucking himself close and using Yugyeom’s taller frame to shield himself from prying eyes. Yugyeom’s heartbeat stutters, then speeds up. He tightens his hold and presses closer to Jaebum.

“Yeah, hyung, I know.”

They pick up the pace when Jiwon and Bambam turn back to beckon at them to hurry up. Stepping into the lingerie store, Yugyeom’s first impression is that it smells nice, a clean perfumed scent that reminds him of huge open windows and fresh laundry. It’s a strange juxtaposition to the merchandise on display in the store, tiny scraps of material in shiny fabrics and all colors of the rainbow. To his horror, his brain immediately goes to picture Jaebum in them. He quickly does a mental shimmy to shake the thoughts off.

“Come here Jaebum,” Jiwon says, holding up a tape measure. “Let me get your measurements so we can get something that fits properly.”

She gestures for Jaebum to take off his sweater, and with a put out sigh, he reluctantly slips his hand from Yugyeom’s grasp and obeys, leaving him standing in the white t-shirt he’s wearing underneath. Yugyeom averts his eyes, but not quickly enough to miss the gentle curve that pushes against the t-shirt or the telltale points they make on the thin material.

Bambam, however, clearly doesn’t have the same tact because he’s unabashedly staring, and when Jiwon offhandedly comments, “You’re really big, Jaebum-ah,” he immediately quips, “That’s what she said,” with a shit-eating grin. Yugyeom barely feels sorry for him when Jaebum violently lunges for him and puts him in a chokehold.

After that, they’re banished from the store while Jiwon and Jaebum finish their shopping, so they decide to wait at the café next door. Jaebum is still seething when they meet up, glaring daggers at Bambam every time their eyes meet, who wisely keeps his mouth shut. He’s wearing the sweater again so Yugyeom can’t really tell if he’s actually wearing a bra underneath. He tries not to let his gaze linger. To distract himself from unnecessary thoughts, he takes the shopping bag from Jaebum and hands them their drinks.

“What’s this?”

“Strawberry mocha,” Yugyeom tells him. “The barista said it’s good.”

She didn’t, but Yugyeom upon seeing it advertised as a seasonal special, figured Jaebum would like it. He’s proven right when Jaebum takes a sip and hums, pleased.

“It is.”

He grins at Yugyeom, earlier ire completely vanished. It’s familiar yet not at the same time, the curve of his eyes sweeter, more alluring. Sternly, Yugyeom tells his heart to chill the fuck out and returns it with a weak smile of his own. He tries not to flinch when Jaebum slips his hand back in his as they trail after Bambam and Jiwon, who have all but forgotten about them and are moving on to the next store. It stays there the whole morning. 

 

-

 

The flurry of activity that is par for the course before every show is more flurried than usual. During a meeting in the early afternoon, their main management team had suggested that they invent a sudden illness so Jaebum can sit out tonight’s concert. But since they’re already missing Jackson, Jaebum turns it down flat, saying he can’t possibly just sit out every show until he changes back when he has no idea when he will.

“We can’t afford any more negativity than has already tainted this tour,” he says firmly. “I’ll do the show.”

He’s looming over the computer screen, palms flat on the table as he stares down the executives on the other side of the virtual meeting. And it’s not like Yugyeom hasn’t seen this side of Jaebum before, their capable, assertive leader, but it’s different somehow with the new lilt in Jaebum’s voice, the set of his softer features. He’s magnificent. 

Management backs down quickly, especially when the rest of them, led by Mark and Jinyoung, throw their combined weight behind Jaebum. As a result, ever since the first run through ended, the entire stylist team has been busying themselves with adjusting Jaebum’s stage costumes to accommodate the wider hips and slimmer waist. Jaebum has been standing in the corner all this time while he’s turned into a pincushion. Yugyeom can almost feel his growing impatience like a tangible thing.

“It’s a good thing most of his shirts are baggy,” Jiwon is telling their manager as she smooths down the newly-altered pants. They’re a little loose around the thighs still. She looks up at Jaebum. “But just in case, we’ll bandage your chest too.”

Their manager nods. “Yes, please do. And Jaebum, leave the talking to the others today. Singing is fine, but the change in your voice is too obvious otherwise.”

Jaebum nods stiffly, and Yugyeom feels a pang—of sympathy, not guilt, because it’s stillnot his fault—for him. He can’t imagine how it must feel like to be in a completely new body, and then having to perform in said body. It’s hard enough getting used to your own. Yugyeom should know.

He watches through the mirror in front of him as Jinyoung goes up to Jaebum, slinging an arm familiarly around his neck to whisper something in his ear. Whatever it is, it melts the tightness in his face into a reluctant smile, which turns into an outright giggle when Jinyoung squeezes, eyes teasing. Yugyeom quickly looks away, swallows down the jealousy he’s used to by now. Some things just never change. 

He’s deep in his head when he hears his name, and shakes his funk off long enough to grab the strawberry milk from the food table when Jaebum asks. He brings it over to Jaebum, accepts the winning smile he gets for it. His gratitude is genuine, at least. 

 

Their first few sets go well, although Yugyeom finds it more difficult to keep his eyes off Jaebum than usual, even going to stand next to him during breaks in songs despite his spot being at the opposite end of the stage, making himself a physical barrier between Jaebum and the rest. The others send him quizzical looks (and in Bambam’s case, judgmental) but stop short of calling him out for it, for which he’s glad. He can’t help it. The way Jaebum moves, while magnetic before, is inexplicably ten times more so now. He hates that he has to share this side of him with the world. 

That’s before the inevitable calls for _Jaebum, aegyo_  start, mercilessly egged on by Jinyoung and Bambam. When Jaebum reluctantly acquiesces, sending the camera a quick wink and an exaggerated peace sign, Yugyeom has to clench his fists to stop himself from going up to stand in front of him and blocking him from the view of, well,  _everybody_. 

But it goes well, so it’s not until they’re halfway through the show and they’re all crammed backstage getting changed that Yugyeom realizes that they’ve all overlooked a fundamental thing.

Well, _two_ fundamental things.

“Would all of you stop staring,” Jaebum says as slips his shirt off.

Although he sounds more frazzled than annoyed, Yugyeom quickly tears his gaze away, flushing. From the corner of his eye he sees the others do the same. They can’t be blamed, having lived like ascetic monks for the past couple of years or so ever since their career started its upward trajectory. They’ve barely had time for basic necessities, let alone date. Jaebum knows this better than anyone.

It’s surprising that a separate changing area hadn’t been set up, but Yugyeom supposes it’s because despite current appearances (and appendages), Jaebum is essentially still male. Very firmly, he tells that to his libido, which, having already been buzzing with the adrenaline of being on stage, is rearing like a reined stallion at the sight of Jaebum’s wrapped chest and the way flesh is swelling over it, hidden but on display. It doesn’t back down an inch. On the contrary, it spikes even more.

Carefully, he turns so his back is to Jaebum, half-listening as he praises him for being a respectful young man who’s raised right unlike _the rest of you perverted assholes._  Then he pats Yugyeom on the shoulder, squeezes a little so warm fingers drag across skin, leaving a tingling trail that shoots straight south. Letting out a weak laugh, Yugyeom just concentrates desperately on willing his arousal down.

 

He manages to keep it under control until they’re back at the hotel, but just barely, because their staff decides to ambush him with a cake after they’re finally done with the assorted fan events after the concert. He forces a smile, pretends to be surprised (he’s not, because this always happens whenever one of them has a birthday), and wills time to pass faster because Jaebum is currently pressed up against him, breasts and all, arm wrapped securely around his shoulder as he playfully breathes the birthday song in his ear. He’s so close Yugyeom can smell the sweat pouring off him, and so warm he’s doubly enticing. It’s driving him crazy.

He’s extra careful this time when the cake is again thrust into his face and he’s instructed to make a wish, making a point to blank his mind while blowing out the candles. Of course, Jaebum chooses that very moment to slide the arm slung over his shoulders down to his waist in a squeeze. 

“Gyeom-ah, happy birthday,” he whispers, hot breath fanning his cheek, and Yugyeom can’t help the way his dick jumps or the way his mind immediately pictures him saying it in a very different situation, a very _undressed_ kind of situation complete with white sheets and rose petals (because he's apparently a clichéd, if horny, romantic). He shies away from the image, locks it up and thrusts it into the deep recesses of his mind. He absolutely does  _not_ need this right now. 

Thankfully, Jaebum is already pulling away, leaving Yugyeom feeling immediately bereft. The arousal quickly rises to take its place and he shoves it down, dutifully cutting the cake and handing it out to everyone in the room, hides it through the chaotic packing up, on the ride back to the hotel, lets it bubble under his skin until he’s back in his and Bambam’s room and barricaded in the bathroom. That’s when he frantically unzips his pants, hissing when cold hands finally, _finally_ touch heated flesh.

It’s both relieving and frantic, and he moans as he strokes himself furiously, unworried about being overheard because Bambam is out on the streets of Tokyo somewhere shooting footage for his next project. Every fiber of his being is attuned to the phantom Jaebum he’s projecting with his mind. It has been his typical routine of late, but this time, the flat chest and washboard stomach is rounded and soft, the dip in his waist more pronounced, the swell of his ass curvier and and he thinks his non-existent magic must still be working because it all feels too real, too much, sending him to the edge too fast. He just manages to choke off the scream of Jaebum’s name as he comes.

He’s washed off the evidence and is lounging on his bed trying to deal with the guilt of having just jacked off to _girl Jaebum hyung oh god I’m the worst_  when the knock on the door comes, and when he opens it to no other than an irritated Jaebum, the wave of shame threatens to engulf him. He just about stops himself from slamming the door shut.

“What were you doing, I called you like ten times,” the older grouses. He pushes his way past Yugyeom, heading straight for his bed and making himself comfortable before continuing with machine gun rapidness, “Do you mind? Youngjae’s talking to his family, I needed some peace and quiet. Where’s Bambam?”

“Filming,” Yugyeom replies in a daze.

Jaebum is in his bed. Jaebum, whom he’s just jacked off to not ten minutes ago, is in his _bed_ in his regular sleep clothes of basketball shorts and worn t-shirt, looking at him impatiently and gesturing for him to join him. The clothes look far too large for him, the shirt nearly slipping off a shoulder as he slides his bare legs under the covers. His bare, smooth legs, he remembers, and then it’s all he can think of. His eyes flick to Jaebum’s chest. He’s pretty sure he’s not wearing his bra.

He goes to sit on Bambam’s bed, focusing his stare somewhere beyond Jaebum’s shoulders to avoid looking him in the eye. “Uh, did you want something, hyung?”

“I told you, I need to sleep, so get over here already.”

It’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before. They have, countless times since Bambam moved out (and even when Bambam was still living with them, although more rarely), when the cats take over Jaebum’s room and Mark doesn’t let him in his. But it’s never been like this, with Jaebum looking freshly showered and sleepy and ten times as desirable in the dim hotel room lighting, Yugyeom’s libido raging despite having taken care of it earlier. And while the second thing is pretty much a regular occurence now ever since he’s come to terms with his crush on the older man, point is, it was hard enough for him to keep his hands to himself all those nights with Jaebum literally a hand span away, cuddled close and breathing deep in his sleep.

Much less now. 

“Yah, Kim Yugyeom,” he hears, and honestly, for someone who’s asking to share his bed, he’s being unreasonably impatient.

He sneaks a glance at Jaebum, meets narrowed eyes, and quickly looks away. Make that impatient and menacing. 

“Look hyung, I’ll just go sleep with Youngjae hyung tonight, give you the room to yourself. I’ll tell Bambam to come crash with us and not to bother you too.”

He heads for the door, hesitating a little before grabbing hold of the handle and pulling it open, but is stopped short of stepping out by a hand on his wrist. 

“Hyung?” he ventures when Jaebum doesn’t do much else. 

A sigh. “Forget it.”

Jaebum’s undecipherable expression almost borders on angry, and is the last thing he sees before the door clicks closed with finality, leaving Yugyeom alone in his room wondering what just happened.

 

-

 

It stays with Yugyeom the whole night and into the next morning, that look, and it’s what makes him avoid Jaebum through breakfast, media interviews, and rehearsals. Nothing’s changed, Jaebum is still how he was the day before, and everyone, including their staff, is getting antsy. Jaebum himself is sullen, his replies (when he deigns to give any) so churlish that even Bambam doesn’t say more than is necessary, and Mark and Jinyoung steer clear away, trading meaningful looks with each other. Youngjae, usually the least affected by their esteemed leader’s mercurial moods (if only because he’s smart enough to stay out of their squabbles and almost always secure in the knowledge that he’s never the cause), pulls him aside as the two oldest prepare to rehearse their unit stage.

“What happened last night? Jaebum hyung said he was going to sleep with you but then he came back in the middle of the night—did you guys fight?”

 _The middle of the night?_ Yugyeom didn’t think it was that late when Jaebum left, but he must have been mistaken. Also, Jaebum wasn’t about to  _sleep with him_ , phrasing, Youngjae. He shakes his head to the prodding look the older is sending him, because no, they didn’t  _fight_ , nothing as trite as that.

He ignores the part of his mind that agreeably chimes in about how falling for his straight bandmate who’s been randomly transformed into a girl is more than hackneyed enough, and done to the death in the few fanfiction he’s accidentally read.

“We didn’t, nothing happened,” he assures him with his most convincing smile. Youngjae lets him go despite clearly not believing him.

He repeats the same then Jinyoung and Mark corner him next, and honestly, it’s starting to annoy him a little, how his bandmates immediately think he’s the cause of Jaebum’s moods. He tells them as much, to which Jinyoung replies, “It’s always got something to do with you, Yugyeom, haven’t you realized?” before shaking his head in resignation and tugging Mark away, leaving Yugyeom seething confusedly in the darkened wings of the stage.

The rest of rehearsal continues much in the same vein, with Yugyeom subconsciously keeping track of the way Jaebum’s mood is growing progressively darker as time passes. It’s distracting, not to mention unnerving, and when he barely manages to get through the sound check for his and Bambam’s unit stage thanks to Jaebum glowering at him from where he’s sitting in the audience, he decides it’s the last straw.

“Hyung,” he starts when they end the song and Jaebum makes his way to the stage, a little irritated but not above explaining, grovelling, anything.  The little bit of irritation morphs into full-fledged indignation when Jaebum pointedly ignores him, going up to Bambam instead and slinging an arm around his shoulder. 

“Good job, Bam-ah, you were really cool just now,” he coos, sweet. It’s decidedly unlike him, and it makes Bambam turn to Yugyeom with eyebrows raised to his hairline proclaiming  _are you seeing this shit_ while inching away from where Jaebum has the better part of his chest pressed up against his arm. 

Honestly, if Jaebum is trying to test his patience, it’s working splendidly. Yugyeom is pretty sure he was just as cool as Bambam was, if not cooler. They were doing the same choreography for fuck’s sake. 

Still, there’s no point stirring shit at this point in time, not when they’re due on stage in a few hours. Blanking his face, he turns to head the other way. It’s time for their break anyway.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Bambam proclaims as they’re changing into their outfits for their first set fifteen minutes before the concert is due to start.

Manfully, Yugyeom ignores him, focusing on getting the belt he’s wearing positioned just right.

“Seriously dude, you’re literally the dumbest guy on the planet.”

He shifts the belt a centimeter to the left. 

“I overheard Jaebum hyung telling Jinyoung hyung what happened last night. I’m surprised at you to be honest, I thought you would have jumped at the chance.”

Leveling him with a baleful glare, Yugyeom says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about your pathetic crush on Jaebum hyung and how, when the opportunity presented itself, you failed to do anything.”

“I don’t have a crush on Jaebum hyung!” The dubious look Bambam sends his way is, frankly, insulting. “Alright, maybe I do, but I’m not going to—to do anything while he’s like this. I don’t want him to regret it, it’ll just make things worse when he changes back.”

 _If_ he changes back, his mind supplies. He shushes it.

“Besides, he’s probably not in his right mind, you know, with the girl hormones and all. Don’t you realize he’s been acting differently? He’s not himself.” 

“Just because I have boobs now doesn’t mean I’m not in my right mind,” he hears, and watches, horrified, as Jaebum strides into the room. He barely catches Bambam’s muttered _idiot_ as he leaves, closing the door behind him.

“H-hyung,” he stammers, because he’s not exactly sure how much Jaebum heard.

Then he blinks, because Jaebum is way too close all of a sudden, jaw set with something akin to determination. He straddles Yugyeom’s legs, trapping him to his chair.

“I think you mean noona. Don’t you?” comes the reply, before Jaebum giggles at what he’s pretty sure is a look of horror on his face. “I’m kidding, Gyeom.”

See what Yugyeom means about Jaebum not being in his right mind? No way would he be joking about this if he’s still in possession of all his mental faculties. Yugyeom was right, Jaebum is not himself, hasn’t acted like himself since the change, what with the way he’s been clinging to Yugyeom and smiling at him with the same damn smile he directs at Nora and Kunta and Odd, the one that sets his heart fluttering and holding his hand and now kissing him—

Yugyeom’s mind stutters to a halt.

Jaebum is  _kissing_ him. Jaebum is kissing  _him_.

Then he isn’t anymore, he’s pulling back and scowling. “At least kiss me back, you idiot,” he says.

And Yugyeom really wants to take offense at being called idiot three times in the last five minutes by two different people, but that’s when Jaebum surges forward again and this time, with his mind well and truly shut down, Yugyeom instinctively reacts.

Jaebum’s lips are soft, the inside of his mouth sweet and Yugyeom is lost, letting himself be led further and further into the swirl of pleasure, sucking on the clever tongue when it makes its presence known in his mouth. Fingers graze across his pulse and he shudders a little, jerking up, pleased when Jaebum hums and grinds down on him with a roll of his hips. It’s a little weird, because for all the times that he’s imagined this, he’s imagined rubbing against firmness, but it’s soft and heat and all give even through the material of their pants, hotter than any fantasy he can dream up. 

He tilts his head back when Jaebum starts trailing kisses over his jaw and down his neck, sucking on his rabbit-quick pulse and god, he’s already hard to bursting and he hopes Jaebum never stops. But of course the second he thinks it, Jaebum is pulling away and off him. Before he even realizes it, he’s reaching out with a disconsolate whine and winding his arms around Jaebum’s neck, locking him in place.

He opens his eyes to see Jaebum smiling fondly down at him, all pink cheeks and dark gaze and when he licks his lips, Yugyeom feels his pants twitch. Jaebum feels it too, he knows, the way they're still pressed together. Shifting a little, he reaches down to palm the bulge in Yugyeom’s pants, the soft smile widening into a smirk.

“Later,” he promises. “We have a show to do.”

Then he pecks him one last time on the corner of his mouth and climbs off him, leaving the room without a second glance.

Yugyeom is still sitting in the same sprawled out position when Bambam comes in, takes one look at him and grins, eyebrows waggling lewdly.

“Guess you’re not so much of an idiot after all.” 

Face flaming, Yugyeom just throws a cushion at him. 

 

He panics when he realizes later is going to come much sooner than he expects. Not because time speeds up or anything like that, but Yugyeom definitely needed more of it to properly prepare himself for the fact that 1) he’s maybe, _possibly_ about to sleep with Jaebum, who’s 2) a girl right now, which means 3) he’s about to sleep with a girl for the first time ever and 4) has he mentioned that the girl is Jaebum and that he’s sleeping with her? Him? The concert passes with a blur, the fan events even more so, and much too quickly they’re packing up and being bundled into the car to make the trip back to the hotel and it’s tick tock to Yugyeom  _losing his virginity to Jaebum_ _who is currently a girl but not really_ and god there’s just so much that’s weird with that statement he’s not quite sure where to start. 

So of course he confesses all this to Bambam in a chain of panicky texts on Kakao. Except the dipshit just laughs, saying, “Don’t worry, you’ll know what to do when the time comes, trust me,”  _out loud_ , earning them a tired, but curious look from Jinyoung.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and great, now even Mark is turning around to look at them too. He’s thankful that Jaebum is in the other car with Youngjae and their manager.

“Nothing,” Yugyeom says, elbowing Bambam hard where they’re hidden in the back seat.

The grunt of pain pleases him. Besides, he’s pretty sure Bambam is just fronting with the whole ‘been there, done that’ shtick. 

 _the fuck_ , he furiously types when Jinyoung and Mark finally turn back to mind their own business. 

The reply comes quick. Swiping a finger across his phone to clear the wall ofㅋs, he flips his friend off, only for his phone to buzz again almost immediately. His groan of frustration turns into an anxious meep when once he sees who it is, sending Bambam into a cackling fit. 

_Come to my room later?_

_I told Youngjae to room with Bam tonight ;)_

_Sure hyung_ , he replies, because what else can he say, before locking his phone. Shutting his eyes, he leans against the headrest and tries to calm his racing pulse.

 

-

 

Given time, Yugyeom would have looked for those rose petals. Or at the very least, he’d have sprinted to the nearby _Donki_ for a couple of scented candles—he’s thinking coconut since Jaebum bought a truckload of them the last time—because every movie he’s ever seen insists on a romantic prelude. Besides, go big or go home, right? Jaebum would like it, he’s pretty sure.

But no, he’s barely given a second to catch his breath after ringing the bell of Jaebum and Youngjae’s shared hotel room before he’s being forcibly pulled into the room and pushed against the door. Don’t get him wrong, he’s not complaining, especially not about the leg that’s currently rubbing intently against the stirring in his pants and robbing him of the ability to speak, but this isn’t what he signed up for, not exactly? At least not without  _some_ sort of preparation. He hasn’t even showered!

He raises this between heated kisses, feeling rather like he’s the one who possesses the girl parts, what with the weepy direction his thought process is currently taking. Though when it makes Jaebum pull away for the first time since jumping him, he regrets ever opening his mouth.

Smirking, he tells Yugyeom, “Me neither.”

He slides a hand down Yugyeom’s shoulder to his wrist, and the nerves return in full force as he’s summarily tugged in the direction of the bathroom. Once there, he turns on the taps to adjust the water temperature before turning to face Yugyeom again, this time with a hint of bashfulness in his face.

He gestures at himself. “So. You wanna do the honors?” 

Yugyeom gulps. This is a far cry from the repressed, reticent, bottle-everything-up-inside Jaebum he’s used to.

“I…”

Steam begins to fill the space and he backs up, wary. He’d thought that the hotel bathroom was huge, but with Jaebum advancing on him like a lion on prey, it feels claustrophobic. He watches as Jaebum steps closer, then closer still, until Yugyeom feels his tailbone hit the counter and there’s nowhere else for him to go.

He holds up his hands to stall the older man’s advance, because there’s so much he wants to ask him, clarify. Make sure this isn’t a one-off, that Jaebum is sure of this. Of him. But his mind refuses to cooperate with his tongue and too late, Jaebum is grabbing hold of his hands and placing them on the hem of his hoodie.

Voice low, he reassures, “Come on, it’s okay.”

His gaze is magnetic. Hypnotizing. Slowly, Yugyeom pulls the hoodie up and off, lips curling up a little when the tightness of the neckline ruffles Jaebum’s hair, making it fluff up at the side. He reaches out to smooth it down, smile growing when Jaebum leans into the touch, eyes half-closing as he nuzzles further into Yugyeom’s hand. It’s adorable, this side of his header and hyung, the side of him that’s all unguarded affection. Yugyeom loves it. Loves him. 

He’s wearing a tank top inside, one of those with huge armholes that Jaebum the man loves, but on Jaebum the woman makes his pulse leap, especially when Yugyeom realizes he’s not wearing anything underneath it. It’s weird, because Jaebum wears things like this all the time around the dorm, scraps of clothing that leaves little to the imagination, goes around in just his boxers even, but after tonight, Yugyeom doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to see Jaebum in tank tops like this without getting at least half hard. It doesn’t matter if he’s man or woman. 

He’s shaken from his thoughts when Jaebum reaches for his sweater, prompting him to squirm out of it, and then tugs his undershirt off. Suddenly shy, Yugyeom tucks his hands under his armpits when he’s completely bare. In return, Jaebum slides a slow, warm hand up the side of his waist and ribs to cover a pectoral. Yugyeom’s heart thuds against his rib cage under it like it’s trying to jump right into his hand for safekeeping.

Jaebum chuckles, quiet but clear in the stillness of the bathroom. “Cute.”

And then he yanks Yugyeom’s head down for a forceful kiss and the atmosphere goes from a slow simmer to sizzling. With his free hand, Jaebum begins mapping Yugyeom’s body with barely there strokes, sending tingles down his spine. World already tilting on its axis, Yugyeom responds in kind, slipping his arms around the shapely waist and reaching down to palm the swell of his butt. It’s almost natural to lift Jaebum and deposit him on the counter after that, the boldness eliciting a fluttery giggle that his mouth greedily swallows.

Jaebum immediately crosses his legs around Yugyeom’s back, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as he leans forward into Yugyeom. He never breaks the kiss, although he gasps when Yugyeom slides a hand under his wide basketball shorts and up a smooth, bare thigh. Yugyeom can’t help the feeling of victory that lances through him at the sound. 

“I thought you wanted to shower,” Jaebum teases huskily, moaning when Yugyeom moves to suck a line of bruises down his throat. He can taste Jaebum’s cologne on his tongue.

He’s so caught up in the moment that he doesn’t notice that Jaebum has somehow unbuckled his pants until the pressure on his erection is relieved. It makes him rear back in surprise, the sudden movement almost dislodging Jaebum from his perch, earning him a reprimanding click of a tongue. Jaebum doesn’t waste time in pushing his jeans down his thighs, although with some difficulty, complaining under his breath about his  _stupid preference for tight pants_ before doing the same to his briefs. 

Jaebum quiets when his dick springs free, tilting his head with a considering hum. Under the intent stare, Yugyeom feels himself go from half-erect to standing at attention, to his embarrassment. Through the mirror, he sees the tips of his ears turning red as seconds pass and still Jaebum doesn’t say anything. 

He clears his throat, moving his hands to cover his crotch but Jaebum catches them, holds them in his.

“Don’t, just—,” Jaebum’s swallow is audible. After a long pause, he mumbles, “It’s... different than I thought.”

Different. Meaning inadequate, probably. Found wanting. Yugyeom isn’t sure if he wants to bash his head against the wall in his mortification or run away and hide forever.

“We don’t have to—”

“No!” The reply is immediate. “No, I want to. It’s just. It’s bigger than I imagined? A little scary,” Jaebum confesses, and oh. _Oh_. Well then.

He tries to tamp down the surge of pride and the resulting blush, because bigger than he’s _imagined_. Which means Jaebum has thought about this, which simultaneously makes Yugyeom want to preen and cover himself up. If turns any redder than he already is, Yugyeom thinks he’ll probably go up in flames. 

With a hand still wrapped tightly around Yugyeom’s, Jaebum leaps off the counter and pulls his shorts down, urging Yugyeom to step out of his. As he moves to obey, he catches a glimpse of Jaebum’s nakedness through the steam rising around them, all milky, soft-looking curves instead of hard planes of muscle, and has to quickly look away. It’s hot, but so weird at the same time. 

They step into the shower together and make quick work of washing themselves. Yugyeom keeps his distance, keeps himself successfully turned away until he hears Jaebum’s soft entreaty of his name over the sound of the shower. It has him reluctantly turning to face him, and then he is lost in Jaebum’s eyes, hot and dark. His touch, warm from the water, is almost secondary. The first brush of fingers on his erection, still there and semi-forgotten, makes him gasp, as does the squeeze of a practiced fist. Instinctively, he reaches out, hand unerringly finding a breast. He brushes his thumb against the peaking nipple and is rewarded with a low moan.

He can’t help but lean in then, wanting a taste of the sound, hands on a mission to caress and squeeze. As one, they sink onto their knees in the tub, water raining down on them and washing the suds down the drain. Yugyeom lets his mouth take over, lets his hands wander and his fingers find every dip and hollow in Jaebum’s new body until he reaches the vee between creamy thighs, hot and inviting, slick from the water. He runs his fingers through the sparse hair there, feeling a rush when Jaebum sighs, pushing his breast more firmly against Yugyeom’s mouth, fingers kneading where they’re tangled in his hair. Encouraged, he sucks harder.

Remembering the porn videos he’s watched, Yugyeom attempts to push his index finger in, only for Jaebum to hiss and smack him soundly on a bare shoulder.

“Fuck, ow. Not yet you brute. And not here.”

The reprimand is sharp but the brush of fingers soothes away the sting. They finish up in the shower quickly, Yugyeom doing his best to keep his hands to himself because he’s not sure he’ll be able to resist giving into temptation once he starts touching again. Jaebum is under no such qualms, if his teasing touches are any indication. Yugyeom wants to ask him to stop, except he really doesn’t want him to. He never wants him to stop.

 

When Yugyeom thinks back to this night in the future, he will wonder how they went from naked and wet in the bathtub to equally naked and (less, but in the hottest sense of the word and for Jaebum) wet on Jaebum’s bed. But when he comes to, he’s got three fingers thrusting in and out of Jaebum as they kiss, sloppy and open mouthed. A particularly hard thrust has Jaebum crying out and tugging on his hair, sending a spike of pain through his nape.

“Sorry,” he mutters, slamming his head down onto the pillow when Yugyeom brushes a thumb across his clit. “Where did you learn to do this,” he wonders, breath hitching when Yugyeom does it again, applying more pressure as he presses down. The long, drawn out groan he gets is very gratifying.

Yugyeom winks at him, cheeky. “Guess I’m just a natural.” Where else would he have learned. It’s not like Jaebum doesn’t know he’s barely seen a girl naked, let alone get close enough to do this.

His response has Jaebum huffing a laugh, although the amusement quickly dies when Yugyeom pushes his legs up. Keeping his fingers working, he slides down on the bed and slots his mouth over the glistening nub. He’s seen this in videos before, wondered how anyone could ever like doing this because ew, but when Jaebum immediately lets out a needy whine, thrusting upward to meet Yugyeom’s tongue, he gets it. He works at Jaebum harder, feeling nothing but pride when his words are reduced to beautiful moans in response to every lick, hips jerking up to push at Yugyeom’s mouth at every gentle suck. 

It doesn’t take long for Jaebum’s thighs to start to shake. They close in on Yugyeom’s head and press in tight, keeping him in place even as his fingers find purchase in Yugyeom’s hair, alternating between pulling him in and pushing him away. His voice goes high and breathy, and when he scrabbles a hand on the sheets, searching, Yugyeom grabs it, linking their fingers together. Jaebum comes with a sob, body arching off the bed and rolling uncontrollably against Yugyeom’s mouth and fingers for more. He tastes intoxicating, a musky mix of sweet and salty and Yugyeom can’t help but keep licking, needing to lap every last drop up. He never wants this moment to end. 

Then there’s a weak push at his head. “Stop, Gyeom, sensitive,” Jaebum pants. Reluctantly, Yugyeom gives him one final lick that has him shuddering, then another one and another one just to draw more delicious sounds from him, before easing off. “Brat,” he hears.

Grinning, he crawls up the bed to loom over Jaebum and studies his face. He’s flushed, sweat dotting his hairline, eyes dazed and lips pink where he was probably biting down on them. He looks pliant, absolutely fucked out and Yugyeom loves it, loves that it was because of him. The surge of affection prompts him to duck forward and lay a light peck on the bridge of his nose, then another kiss on his cheek, before succumbing to Jaebum’s insistent hands to kiss him properly. He can’t get enough of the addictive taste. 

“Was it good?” he asks when they part, feeling oddly shy.

“Yeah,” Jaebum admits with a content smile. “Better than when I did it myself.”

And that’s new information, although in retrospect it shouldn’t have been surprising. Any guy worth his salt would take the first opportunity to explore should this have happened to them. Yugyeom’s not quite sure why he didn’t think of it before, but now, the image of Jaebum touching his new body, breaching places that never existed before these couple of days sears itself into his mind. His cock throbs at the visual, reminding him that he’s still hard, and has been for a while now.

Jaebum hasn’t forgotten, he realizes, jumping when a hand grabs his erection and starts a slow rhythm, fist squeezed just on this side of tight to have him straining forward, yet not near tight enough. But he locks his elbows to keep from sinking involuntarily, no matter how much he wants to rub off against Jaebum’s thigh. He peppers kisses over Jaebum’s jaw and throat, wanting but not daring to ask, because he’s not at all sure how far Jaebum wants to go, is willing to go. He gets his answer when Jaebum starts guiding him down, presses his tip against the opening between his legs.

“Really?” Yugyeom asks, needing to be sure.

Lazily, Jaebum smirks up at him through his lashes. “Might as well, right? Who knows how long I’ll be in this body for.”

The statement rings off-key in Yugyeom’s ears but he can’t be bothered to analyze it right now, because Jaebum isn’t wasting any time in guiding him into tight heat. Encouraged, he presses forward.

The slickness helps him slide in, sure and easy, but Yugyeom takes his time, not wanting to hurt him. Jaebum clearly disagrees with this plan of action, because he’s wrapping his legs around his back and pushing him forward, demanding. Breath catching, Yugyeom obeys. It drags a wavering moan out of Jaebum.

It feels glorious, a million times better than his fist, the way Jaebum envelops him, taking him in inch by inch by inch. There’s a little resistance but Yugyeom pushes through, minding every minute shift of expression on Jaebum’s face as he does. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to be in pain, aside from a little discomfort. He stills when Jaebum frowns, strokes down the expanse of soft skin to let him adjust, presses his lips against his temple to feel his pulse. 

And then he’s all the way inside, sheathed to the hilt. With Jaebum's arms and legs wrapped around his body and the tightness surrounding him, Yugyeom thinks there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

He takes a second to catch his breath and force down the waves of sensation that threatens to spill from the intensity of it all. He’s not going to embarrass himself in front of Jaebum like that.

“Hyung,” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Feels amazing.”

Jaebum grins. “I bet.”

And it’s that smug and knowing, matter of fact tone that has Yugyeom’s competitive spirit rearing up. Fighting every instinct in his body telling him to stay as he is, he moves backward to pull out, ignoring the way Jaebum is digging his heels painfully into his tailbone in protest. He stops before he slips out completely and slides back in, maddeningly slow. He does it again, then again and again, purposefully keeping up the agonizing lack of speed, refusing to give into the torturous demands his body screams at him. It takes almost everything he has to control the urge roiling inside him but it pays off beautifully because finally,  _finally_ , a long, low moan tears from Jaebum’s throat, followed by a very frustrated, “Fuck, Gyeom, go faster.”

Triumphant, it’s then that he starts moving in earnest, snapping his hips forward and up, forcing Jaebum to almost bend in half to accommodate his movements. Jaebum is louder than he’s been the entire night, cursing between moans of Yugyeom’s name, so loud and so urgent that Yugyeom has to seal his mouth with his for fear that Jinyoung and Mark next door will hear. But he knows it’s a losing battle that he’s fighting; with the wet squelch that accompany every thrust of his hips finding home and the rattle of the bed frame against the wall, Yugyeom’s pretty sure they’ve long been busted.

He’s too close too soon,  _been_ close since the first brush of fingers against his pants that afternoon in the dressing room. And then Jaebum cries out, fingers digging painfully into the muscle on his back as he clenches erratically around him and Yugyeom’s lost, he’s lost. He snaps his hips faster, relishing in the slap of flesh on flesh. Feeling his balls drawing high and tight, he digs his toes into the sheets for leverage. Everything feels hazy and nerves tingle, his body feeling overlarge for his skin.

The world narrows, reduces to the motion of his hips and the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. With every thrust forward, he tries to press in deeper, deeper still. It’s too much, the heat, the tightness, the sheer sublimity of being  _inside_ Jaebum like this, inside  _Jaebum_ , his friend, his hyung. It’s too much, the emotion that surges within him. To hide the endearments threatening to escape, he buries his face in Jaebum’s neck. He comes with a shout of  _Jaebum hyung_ into hot, sweat-slicked skin, Jaebum’s fingers stroking reassuringly through his hair. 

 

-

 

He wakes up with one side of his face smushed against a pillow when the uncomfortable numbness in his arm gives way to pinching tingles. Once he finally wrenches his sleep stuck eyes open, squinting a little at the glare of sunlight, he sees why—Jaebum’s head is pillowed on it, his nose securely lodged under his collarbone. His mouth is open as he snores and there’s a line of dried drool running across his bicep. Yugyeom ought to be more disgusted by it than he is. The clock on the nightstand reads 5:47am.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Yugyeom counts to three before warily opening them again. Nothing changes, not even when he does it another three times, after which, feeling silly, pinches himself with his free hand instead. He winces a little at the sting and shifts, then stills as Jaebum cuts himself off mid-snore. Snuffling, he rolls over to face the opposite direction, sliding off Yugyeom’s arm as he does so and giving the younger a tantalizing view of his bare back. The pale skin is dotted with moles, something he missed the night before. They’re charming. To prevent himself from reaching out and touching, Yugyeom snatches his arm to his chest, massaging it a little to get some feeling back into it. 

So he slept with Jaebum.  _Girl_ Jaebum, but Jaebum nonetheless, and he’s about this close to freaking out. Bambam. Bambam will know what to do. He feels around for his phone before remembering it’s still in his pants, in the bathroom where Jaebum had stripped him of it. The memory makes his ears burn.

Carefully, he slides himself off the bed and tiptoes across the room, flinching when he accidentally bumps against the edge of the couch. It’s not loud by any measure but Yugyeom freezes anyway, holds his breath. Luckily, Jaebum’s snoring doesn’t waver. Once he’s safely in the bathroom, he sinks down against the wall and unlocks his phone, scrolling through the notifications.

There’s a couple of texts from Mark and Jinyoung asking where he was because they wanted Ichiran for supper, another from Hyungwoong about adjusting some choreography, and a  _have fun with Jaebum hyung_ from Youngjae, complete with a bunch of smirking smiley faces. For all his projected innocence in public, Youngjae is probably the most brazen among them when it comes to teasing, if only because he knows he’s the only one who can get away with it, especially when it comes to the older ones in the group. Bambam, bless his heart, sent a line of eggplant emoticons with a single 화이팅 that makes Yugyeom want to strangle him a little. Then he slides open the picture that followed not two minutes after that text, and yup, he’s going to kill him, best friendship be damned.

Still, the two-shot of Bambam and Youngjae making kissy faces at the camera and the finger-scrawled  _use protection!!!_  sends a spike of fear through him, shoving the embarrassment and irritation into the backseat.

Because of course they  _didn’t_. Yugyeom barely spared a thought for anything that isn’t _Jaebum hyung_ , _wow_ , and _inside_ for most of the night. And he wants to beat himself up because he should have thought of it; Yugyeom didn’t sit through hours of sex ed both in school and courtesy of JYPE without knowing better than to have sex without protection. It’s the sole reason why there’s an expired condom sitting in his wallet right this moment, except now it’s too late and he’s already done it with Jaebum and—shit.

“Shit.”

He says it out loud for good measure, then again while looking at his reflection in the mirror. Then he takes a deep, calming breath, before expelling it in the sibilant syllable one more time. He should be worried about the fact that it seems to be the only word in his vocabulary right now, but not really because it’s apt, considering the situation he’s gotten himself into. It would have been bad enough even if Jaebum were himself but he wasn’t, he  _wasn’t_ and the consequences just became exponentially graver. He wishes Jaebum never became a girl. He wishes he never said he wanted to turn him into a girl. He wishes he’s never heard of wishes in the first place. Twisting the tap open, he splashes his face with the ice cold water. It’s unnecessary, he’s more than awake enough.

He’s not quite sure what to do now but first things first, he has to come clean to Jaebum. Own up to his mistake and accept whatever sanction there is. So he steps back into the room and makes his way to the bed where Jaebum is still sleeping, sound and unaware. He looks young like this, Yugyeom thinks, carefree, the familiar, masculine lines of his face relaxed and soft. He’s so good looking. Yugyeom’s chest tightens from the weight of everything he feels for him.

He sucks in a breath in preparation to call out and wake him up, but that’s when Jaebum shifts onto his back, fitfully pushing the duvet from his neck to his stomach with a sigh, revealing an expanse of creamy skin. Yugyeom stalls, eyes lingering on the red marks that litter it. He vividly recalls placing his mouth on all of them. They tempt him to do it again, consequences be damned, and he lets himself consider it as his gaze roves from the dip in Jaebum’s throat to the flat chest, to the line of hair low on his abs. He itches to pull the covers lower, wants to feast his eyes on what he knows is under—

Hang on. 

He stares at Jaebum's belly button as he mentally rewinds. Flat chest.  _Flat_ chest. He drags his eyes back up but no, he wasn’t mistaken. Jaebum’s breasts are gone, flattened over the night. Through the blood pulsing in his head, he reaches out to slide the duvet down to Jaebum’s thighs.

And there it is in all its glory, flaccid, wrinkled flesh in a tangle of dark hair. It’s the most beautiful thing Yugyeom has ever seen and he could weep. He’s magic after all.

There’s another rustle and this time, Jaebum stirs awake.

“Gyeom?” he enquires, voice sleep rasped. “What are you doing?”

“Hyung! Hyung look, you’ve changed back!” 

His voice is shrill in his excitement but he doesn’t care. He watches as Jaebum sits up, yawning, and gestures for him to look down at his crotch.

Yugyeom knows it hits Jaebum fully when he blinks, eyes round, and he can’t help but reach out to hug him, letting him pull away only a fraction, and only to confirm again that yes, indeed, he’s got all his male parts back where they belong. Ecstatic, Yugyeom kisses him full on the mouth, fingers digging into the hard muscle of his back. It lasts for about a second until Jaebum jerks away and dislodges himself forcefully. He frowns and stands. 

“Cool,” he says.

It’s impassive and more of a non-reaction than Yugyeom expects, but he doesn’t get to probe because Jaebum is sliding on his discarded robe and slipping past him into the bathroom. The lock clicks. Yugyeom drops onto the bed like a puppet with its strings cut.

He thought Jaebum would be more elated about this. Yugyeom knows he would be if it were him in Jaebum’s place. The stony expression he sported before he made for the privacy of the bathroom was cutting, and Yugyeom doesn’t understand why he just up and left. It’s almost like the forward, eager Jaebum of last night is gone, only to be replaced with—with—

With the Jaebum from before. But of course.

The shower turns on in the bathroom. Out in the bedroom, realization hits Yugyeom like a splash of ice water. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets himself fall back onto the bed.

One minute, he tells himself. Just one more minute to bask in last night and then he’ll leave, to try and start putting things back the way they were before.

 

The following days pass in a blur of fan events and rehearsals and media, each more grating than the last but Yugyeom barely notices, nodding his way through every interaction. No one is expecting him to do any differently anyway or  _say_ anything really, considering his limited Japanese. Besides, he’s got his ‘maknae on top’ reputation to fall back on, lest anyone thinks he’s acting out of the ordinary. He’s not, he’s just being Kim Yugyeom, brat, devil child, the source of all his hyungs’ headaches. And if Mark, ever-observant, happens to side eye him more than once in disapproval, he finds he doesn’t care. 

Jaebum isn’t acting any differently either. He’s leaderly where it counts but lets loose as well as the rest of them, keeps Bambam in line but makes faces at the camera with Youngjae. He jokes around with Jinyoung and Mark and ignores Yugyeom pretty much entirely, but with how everyone is busy being massively relieved following Jaebum’s announcement of everything being back to normal, it goes unnoticed. Watching the way their Japanese manager teared up, repeatedly thanking every deity he can think of, Yugyeom almost snaps at him to thank him instead, but manages to rein himself back just in time. He’s not about to out himself.

Besides, Jiwon is telling Jaebum  _there’s no point in giving me the bras, we can’t return them and no one shares your size_ , and Yugyeom wants to see if he is going to keep them. As a memento, for posterity, whatever. 

Jaebum tosses them in the trash instead. Figures.

So, life goes on. Except Yugyeom is now the not-so proud possessor of certain knowledge, like how Jaebum’s voice goes high and thready when he’s aroused and how his face scrunches up in his climax. How he loves the way Yugyeom scrapes his nails over the side of his waist but won’t let him so much as breathe near his armpits. How he smells like coconut and lavender. How the curve of his lips and the slant of his eyes is arresting and makes it hard for Yugyeom to breathe when he turns the full force of both on him. 

This knowledge isn’t so pertinent to the current Jaebum, sure. But they’re potent and distracting and they like to besiege him (and his dick) at the most inconvenient of times, sending him into fast fading memories he’s trying his best to keep. Times like right now, for instance, in the middle of a live interview, and he’s wrangling the memory of straight white teeth biting into a plush bottom lip, the desperate arch of a long neck as it begs to be kissed. If Yugyeom didn’t know better, he’d think his brain is conspiring to out him in front of his group mates and staff and basically the whole of Japan at this point, he’s pretty sure, if what he half caught during the briefing for this interview is correct. Again, limited Japanese. 

But there’s no time to stall, because Jinyoung is prodding him with insistent fingers, whispering out of the side of his mouth to  _get on with it_  while Youngjae and Bambam helpfully, if all too cheerfully chant  _sekkushii daansu, sekkushii daansu_ from their seats in the back. Right, it’s time for this tired thing again. He starts, pastes what he hopes is a suitably bashful smile on his face.

Mark slaps him on the butt when he gets up, causing him to stumble a little before catching himself. It’s playful to onlookers but more a warning to be present, and it actually stings a little bit. When he straightens, his eyes accidentally meet Jaebum’s. They’re curved in a smile but the smile itself is distant. Yugyeom hastily looks away.

The music for  _Why_ starts, because of course, of everything they could have chosen, an entire catalog of non-Jaebum composed songs without Jaebum’s fucking voice, they pick this very one. Yugyeom steels himself, letting the whoops of his band mates fade into the background to concentrate on how the music makes him feel instead. He doesn’t have to reach too deeply; he’s replayed the track more times than he can count since Jaebum first sent him the demo to ask for his opinion.

With the beat flowing through him, he moves, sinuously, sensuously, with a hip roll here and a sharp thrust there. Don’t ever let it be said that Kim Yugyeom doesn’t know what the audience wants from him. And maybe he loses himself in it because Jaebum’s voice on the song conflates with Jaebum’s moans in his memories, layering over each other until they’re one and the same. Or maybe he’s doing it with petty intent, in an attempt to force a reaction where none has been forthcoming for so long. Or maybe it’s all pointless and he just shouldn’t be trying at all. Maybe it’s time to douse the pathetic litany of _jaebumjaebumjaebum_ that has been the only thing on his mind since two nights ago. 

Since as long as he can remember now, if he’s being honest with himself. 

He’s stopped short of humping the floor by fingers in the waistband of his pants, and Mark’s dry, “That’s enough from you.” They’re performing relations, as usual, and Yugyeom does his part to project sheepish embarrassment like he always does as he heads back to his seat without meeting anyone’s eyes. All of a sudden, he’s tired of everything, the bright lights and the pandering and pretending he doesn’t care when he does, so much. It fucking hurts and he’s so fucking  _tired_ of wishing Jaebum loved him back.

He doesn’t see the way watchful eyes cloud over, doesn’t catch the look of misery or the commiserating squeeze of a forearm, courtesy of Jinyoung. 

 

-

 

Jackson’s text buzzes into his phone just as he’s hunkered down at a small table at a twenty-four hour conveyor belt sushi restaurant next to their hotel in Nagoya.

Drenching the  _ootoro_ (because he’s 97 Young and Rich, okay, plus he deserves it after the shitty few days he’s had and he’s treating himself) in wasabi and soy sauce, he stuffs it in his mouth before opening it, and almost chokes as a result.

_what did you do to JB why’s his panties all in a twist_

_i didn’t do anything! and he doesn’t wear panties idiot_

Another piece of fatty tuna and then his phone rattles on the table again.

_you would know ;)_

_and who are you calling idiot you brat don’t make me go to japan to beat you up_

_seriously though, he’s being all depressed and shit over facetime i can’t talk to him like this_

_what did you do_

_why did you reject him_

_is it because of the girl thing_

Of all the—! Yugyeom furiously swallows his sushi.

_i didn’t REJECT him_

_HE rejected ME_

_and who told you about the girl thing anyway no one other than us was supposed to know_

_jinyoung_ , comes the reply.  _duh_

_and i’m us too you shit_

_what do you mean he rejected you_

_jinyoung says he says you left_

Of course he left. How could he have  _not_ left when Jaebum clearly couldn’t stand to even be within five feet of him after what they’ve done, the way he’d all but ran to the bathroom. Now Yugyeom has never been one to linger on past mistakes—he can’t, not if he wants to survive the K-entertainment industry intact—but he can’t help but replay the look of disgust on Jaebum’s face when he kissed him that morning, the way the warmth that honeyed his voice the night before (and nearly always when directed at Yugyeom) went subzero in the light of day. It’s obvious Jaebum regrets everything. Yugyeom had to leave if he wanted his dignity intact. 

_anyway plane’s taking off now so I’ll talk to you later_

_but fix this!!_

_or else_

And honestly, Yugyeom wishes he could just wave a hand and turn back the clock. But he can’t, and short of praying as hard as he’s able that somehow, some way, every trace of that night will magically be erased, Yugyeom has no idea how.

 

He returns to the hotel with his belly full and mouth stinking of fish and soy sauce, so he hits the showers once he gets to the room. He takes his time, letting the near-boiling water sluice away the dirt and dust until he’s feeling clean and over-warm. It’s another matter altogether on the inside but whatever, he’ll live with it. When he’s done brushing his teeth, he slips on just his underwear, deciding he needs nothing else but that and a robe to lounge in bed and watch YouTube in. Shrugging said robe over his shoulders, he steps out of the bathroom. And freezes.

“Took you long enough,” Jaebum says from where he’s propped up on an elbow on his bed.

The déjà vu that strikes Yugyeom almost knocks him flat. He braces his arm against the doorframe to steady himself, counts to ten. 

“Hyung?” he finally ventures when Jaebum makes that telltale moue of impatience. “Did you need something?”

Face wash, he predicts. Maybe lotion, since they use the same brand. Or perhaps to finally murder him for taking advantage of him and put him out of his misery. Yugyeom isn’t sure which he prefers.

“I told Youngjae to room with Bambam tonight. Got the key from him,” he hears instead, and that’s when the alarm bells start ringing in his head, alongside accusatory _traitor_ s he hurls at an imaginary Bambam. Definitely here to murder him.

Slowly, carefully, he starts making his way to his luggage to find a shirt. No way he’s dying in his underwear. No sudden movements, he’s thinking with every step, but clearly he isn’t successful, because he’s stopped short by Jaebum’s clipped, “Come here.”

“Let me just put on a shirt first,” he replies politely, and just a touch scared. 

The frown deepens. “Come. Here.”

Jaebum does not sound happy, something that is quickly apparent when he follows it with an annoyed click of a tongue. Yugyeom mentally curses his inability to run, duck, anything as he watches his leader get out of bed and stalk toward where he’s standing, rooted to the spot. Grabbing his hand, Jaebum pulls with more force than necessary and flings him in the direction of the bed. He falls onto it with a thump. Jaebum is stronger than he remembers.

Also scarier. Yugyeom gulps when he looms over him, blocking out the ceiling light. Fuck. Why couldn’t Jaebum have wanted face wash?

And then there’s a mouth on his and Jaebum is kissing him, tongue forcing his mouth open and diving deep, licking along his teeth and his gums and the roof of his mouth, sticking so far down his throat Yugyeom is surprised he doesn’t gag. Instinctively, he lifts his hands to Jaebum’s shoulders and slides them down, feeling the bunching muscles in his back and the assault gentles, turns sweet. Jaebum still tastes the same, smells the same but the rest of Jaebum is so unlike what he thought he knew, so new and delightful he almost forgets that this shouldn’t be happening. Why is this happening?

He pushes weakly at Jaebum’s shoulder, thankful when the older man lets up and he finally gets to breathe. Panting, he tries to decide what to go with now, should it be  _what the fuck_ or  _why are you here_ or  _again hyung, kiss me again_? He’s not too sure. Thankfully, Jaebum doesn’t seem to need his input.

“You stink, Gyeom. What did you eat earlier.”

He makes a face to convey his disgust before toppling down onto Yugyeom’s side, one arm wrapped tight across Yugyeom’s chest as if preventing him from moving away. Like he doesn’t intend to let him move away. But it’s not like Yugyeom is thinking about that at all, because,

“I brushed my teeth!” he says indignantly.  _And_ he used mouthwash. Dental hygiene is something he takes absolutely seriously.

Jaebum’s look of displeasure doesn’t subside, looking more and more reminiscent of that horrible expression he sported on that nightmarish morning. It brings him back to the more important matter at hand. 

“Hyung... why?”

Why come here? Why kiss him again? Why leave him like that that morning, ignore him for the days after, break his heart? He doesn’t say any of it because they all sound childishly aggrieved in his head, but he thinks Jaebum knows anyway, because the previously restrictive arm is stroking his as if to calm and soothe, positively affectionate now.

Jaebum cups his cheek, turns it on the pillow to face him. “What about you, why did you leave?” he asks instead of answering.

The dark eyes that stare into his, into his very soul, are sincere, if searching. Intense. Yugyeom shifts his gaze to the wall and draws a shaky breath.

“I figured you didn’t want me there, after… after what happened,” he replies, quiet. His ears burn from the memories that flash into his head. 

“After what happened?”

Yugyeom slants a gaze at him. “You know what I meant,” he says reprovingly, and Jaebum’s lips curve in a tiny smile. Despite the tenseness of the moment, it relieves Yugyeom a little. 

“You mean the fucking?”

His not-quite-teasing response makes Yugyeom narrow his eyes. Of course he means the fucking! What else could he have meant. Except he kind of wishes Jaebum didn’t phrased it so crudely, made it sound so... impersonal.  _Be an adult_ , he reminds himself. He can’t have Jaebum thinking he’s butthurt from a one night stand that apparently didn’t mean anything to the other. Besides, it was all his fault. 

“I’m sorry,” he says instead. “I know you weren’t… yourself. And it was my fault you weren’t and I should have stopped but I didn’t, so. Sorry. And I know it didn’t mean anything, you don’t have to—”

The gusty sigh that cuts him off takes him by surprise, even as he jumps from the punishing pinch on his bicep. But then Jaebum rubs a thumb over the throbbing spot. “Yugyeom. Look at me.”

It’s a clear command, and grudgingly, he shifts his gaze back to Jaebum’s, used to obeying that tone of voice instantly.

“What.”

“Gyeom, just because I had girl parts for a day—” he  _tsks_ when Yugyeom interrupts with  _two, hyung, two days_ , then continues, “Two days, doesn’t mean I was any less me. I was the same person. You didn’t take advantage of me, okay? In case you’ve forgotten,  _I_ came onto  _you_.”

 _Yes you did_ , Yugyeom thinks, which is half the reason why this all felt weird and wrong in the first place. Besides, “It’s only because you were a girl and you wanted to know how it felt, you said so yourself.”

Jaebum shakes his head, letting out a groan that manages to be both exasperated and affectionate. Maybe it’s the soft look that makes his eyes liquid pools as he shifts closer. He lays his head on the corner of Yugyeom’s pillow, runs fingers through the hair falling into Yugyeom’s eyes as Yugyeom mentally kicks himself for thinking like a Harlequin heroine. 

“What I wanted was  _you_. And I’m sorry if I never made it clear, but I’ve always wanted you, since way before, like years ago before. I was just waiting for you to be a proper adult before I made my move. Ask Jinyoung, if you don’t believe me.”

Yugyeom blinks. Then the import of what Jaebum just said strikes, and he feels his cheeks heat up with a fierce blush.

“You were waiting… so it’s not my fault? It’s not because of my wish?”

“What wish?”

Crap. “Nevermind,” he deflects hastily.

Jaebum is still smiling at him, although he looks a little suspicious now. But he’s _looking_ , and after an eternity of not having those eyes trained on him, Yugyeom feels both embarrassed and elated. He wants to bask in them forever, but first. 

“You lo—you want me?”

The four years Jaebum have on him shows then, or maybe he’s just transparent, because Jaebum catches his slip anyway.

“I love you,” he confirms, and damn if it isn’t the most unromantic way to get confessed to, but it’s Jaebum doing the confession so Yugyeom will take it however he can get. Still. 

“You can’t take it back,” he warns over the thunderous heartbeat in his ears. He blushes a little at his forwardness, because _mature adult, goddamnit!_ but Jaebum doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Not planning to.”

It’s almost a promise, the way cold, clammy fingers slip down to tangle with his and squeeze. Yugyeom squeezes back and holds on.

“Okay,” he says, and nods. “Okay. I love you too,” he adds just in case, and watches as happiness blooms on Jaebum’s face. It’s mixed with the tiniest bit of relief, as though Jaebum had been afraid Yugyeom was going to say no. As if.

Then a mouth is on his, moving sweetly. Yugyeom loses himself in it, leaves off comparing this Jaebum with the one in his memories. There’s no reason to when he’s got him right here in his arms, warm and willing. He presses forward more, wanting to devour him, not intending to ever let go.

Four for four, he finds himself thinking of the wishes he’s made in the past few days. The last conscious thought he has before his mind blanks is that he must be magic after all.

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is?? i literally just wanted to write 1k of girl jaebum for gyeomday but it turned... into... this... idek anymore. this is also a birthday present from myself to myself bc no one fucking writes this pairing and i'm at the end of my rope waiting for updates to the tag WRITE THIS PAIRING PEOPLE COME ON
> 
> i might write a smutty epilogue for this if anyone wants :D
> 
> as always thank you for reading! <3


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